


Parallel Worlds

by RosettaStarlight



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Aftermath of trauma, Alternate Realities, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Multi, Parallel Universes, Peter Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Screw it everyone deserves hugs, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:01:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosettaStarlight/pseuds/RosettaStarlight
Summary: When a training session results in Peter Maximoff accidentally sending himself both into the future and an alternate timeline, he has to ask the help of his little sister (who looks so much older now), as long as she can get past the fact he's supposed to be dead, and her friend (girlfriend? Maybe she's dropping hints but Wanda's not picking up) to get back home.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Peter Maximoff, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Original Female Character(s) & Original Non-Binary Character(s), Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Peter Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

"Whee!" Melody squealed as she rode a library cart through the pristine halls. The sound jerked up Tommy, who had almost dozed off, his cheek rested against a cool marble pillar. The cart full of books driven by the perky redhead came up beside him, the wheels skidding to a stop.

Tommy glared through half-closed eyes. He wasn't exactly tired--he didn't sleep like he used to--but his brain was foggy and needed to stare into the middle distance for a moment or two and think of fluffy things. Several folders secured tightly by elastic bands rested precariously in his fingers, threatening to fall in his half-asleep state onto the shiny, marble floor. All the folders were in a variety of colors, the only difference between each. One was quivering and he was pretty sure another was smoking.

 _Just one more minute of peace was apparently too much to ask_ , he thought, angling his shoulder so his upper torso and back pressed against the pillar. Melody was new, and oh so excited to be here, and it was starting to get on his nerves. She was always so obnoxiously cheerful, and talkative, and he was basically stuck with her for who knew how long. Ever since River assigned her to him so he could show her the ropes, he hadn't gotten more than five minutes of peace and quiet.

Absentmindedly, he checked the watch on his wrist. Seven minutes. A new record.

"Stop playing around with those. They're not toys," Tommy grumbled.

"I know, but I was bored," grinned Melody, a faint Russian accent on her tongue. "Nothing ever happens around here." She flicked through the titles on the spines of the books in the cart until picking out a random one, and flipped through the pages. "I honestly never knew there was this much out there!" she giggled, glancing up at Tommy. He forced a tight smile in return, letting it fall the instant she went back to reading.

"You're not supposed to read them," Tommy chided, plucking the book from her hands, despite her protests. He glanced at the cover to see whose story this was. Ah, yes, the Potter boy, he thought to himself with a sigh. Wasn't he a popular one. "You're just supposed to put them on their assigned shelves, and leave them at that."

Each character in every world and universe got their own story. Their adventures and lives would be written down in a book, and then shelved away in the library. Each day, for as long as that person lived, another page would be added. The library was full of books. There were those with the alternate universes of the original written down, and various for each. Harry Potter was just one example.

Frankly, Tommy found it a bit exhausting, considering he was the one who had to check in every now and then on each to see if the story was going as planned. Mostly, it did, but then there were times when something unexpected happened. Usually, it fixed itself up eventually, but once or twice, he'd had to intervene before things went too far.

There were so many books placed on the shelves of the old, never-ending library that you could wander around for thousands of years, and there would still be more books to read.

"But where is the fun in that?" Melody grinned, taking the book back. "I have to find some way to pass the time, don't I?"

Tommy gave her a look, and she rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine," she huffed, rolling the cart away. Once she was out of his line of sight, he let out a sigh of relief. Although he could bet she probably started reading a few of the books the instant she thought it was safe.

The clatter of the cleaner's bucket being dragged along the corridor behind him brought him back to reality, and he wiped something that was definitely not drool from his mouth. He nodded politely at the creature with the mop, who saluted back and carried on singing along to the song blasting through the large headphones perched atop its lumpy head. If Tommy had to guess, he'd say the caretaker looked like some form of troll, but he thought it extremely rude to ask someone their species, so he'd spent the last couple of years mentally referring to him as the cleaner, or guy-who-likes-AC/DC-and-Whitney-Houston.

The area Tommy waited in, where he had spent the last millennia worth of evenings waiting in, was a wide marbled entrance way filled with pillars like the one he'd just been dozing on, and numerous wooden doors scattered along the walls. He always waited outside the same one, though its occupant had changed over the centuries. This one, of course, just had to decorate the outside of her door with sheets of an unknown child's finger painting, a periodic table, and a flier from a kebab shop, which he'd always wanted to go and try someday--Focus, Tommy! he chastised himself

The entrance hall happened to resemble a more classical era, somewhere Aristotle might've enjoyed stamping around, but as was per usual, Tommy didn't exactly look like he belonged there. He wore floppy black pirate boots that had the soles repaired so many times it now looked like it was bound to fall apart at any moment, and tucked into them were a pair of jeans, ripped at the knees. His black shirt was faded so it appeared a more dark grey, but the words 'Glastonbury 1970' could still just be made out among the design, and over that was a dark blue trench coat he'd won a while back from a man with a tendency to flirt with anything that held a pulse. Though not in the best condition, everything about him seemed to be well-worn and well-loved--everything but his hair, which resembled more a bird's nest.

That evening's report wouldn't be so different from the others he gave almost every day, yet Tommy couldn't help feeling queasy at the thought of the news he had to deliver. Hoisting up the top file, he flicked through all the pages until he came to the right sheet of paper, and ran his finger down the list of facts he'd hastily scrawled. True, situations like this didn't pop up that often, but usually they sorted themselves out before any _real_ damage could be done. It was just the particular issue that had caught his attention.

He was almost 100% sure that the twins were partially to blame. If he didn't know any better, he'd say they purely existed to make his job as difficult as possible. Along with their whole family, when he thought about it. Especially considering his new trainee. The most he could do was pray that as the generations went along, their knack for causing trouble (intentionally or otherwise) would fade.

A clatter caught his attention, and a series of loud noises followed it. He exhaled loudly through his nose. Though he couldn't see the source, he had a pretty good idea where it came from and what the cause was.

"Sorry!" Melody shouted soon after, proving him right. She poked her head out from behind a bookshelf. Where she was supposed to be doing her job. She gave a nervous smile. "Um, by the way, did you know that we have a teeny problem?"

Another sigh and Tommy rolled his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose. _Don't tell me she's messed up already_ , he thought. "What is it?"

Melody let out a nervous laugh. She came out, and walked up to him with a book in her hand. "Um, is someone missing from one of their...rightful places?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

Tommy shrugged. "Maybe. Why?" he stated, trying to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal.

"I think I might've found him," she nervously chuckled. "And I'm pretty sure he wasn't there yesterday. And I'm also pretty sure he's supposed to be dead in that certain universe."

Attention caught, Tommy whipped his head around to look at her. He knew what had happened, but he was still trying to find where this person ended up in. "Don't tell me..." he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Melody chewed on her bottom lip. "Alright, I won't tell you..."

"Out of every place he could be," Tommy grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "He could've ended up in some alternate version of his own universe or with the Doctor, or Harry Potter, or even those Winchesters, but no, he had to land in _that_ reality." He sighed to himself, taking a deep breath. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought. "So when and where is he in this universe?"

The redhead blanched. "Um...I was reading, and I don't think you're going to like this," she stated, opening the book to the page she'd been reading only a minute ago. Showing it to him, he read it, silently muttering the words to himself. Then he got to the part that had worried her so much.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me!" he exclaimed, causing Melody to flinch. "This is bad."

"On what scale?" she asked innocently. "From one to ten?"

Tommy gave her a sharp look, but before he could say anything, the electronic display on the door chirped, and he looked up to see it now read 'Enter!' in a cheery neon green. He snapped the file in his hand shut, secured the rubber band around it, and strode over to the door.

"Good luck. You'll need it when you tell her the news," said Melody anxiously, chewing on her lip again.

"You offer lovely support, you know," he retorted sarcastically. He regained a calm composure, and didn't bother knocking, opening the door with a flourish.

"Evening, River!" he greeted the middle-aged woman hunched over the desk before him. Her hair stuck out in all directions, escaping from the bun she'd captured it in earlier that day, and ink was smudged across her face. Coffee mugs littered the desk, along with stacks upon stacks of paper, a laptop, and an abacus. Not one of the various clocks hanging on the walls told the correct time, but Tommy knew for a fact that River could tell him exactly how early or late they all were to the minute

She stared at him with bleary eyes as he clicked the door close and approached the chair in front of the desk. "Hello, sweetie," she said fondly, smiling to reveal the lipstick on her teeth. "How are you?"

"I'm great. Just hunky dory. You?" he said.

"Only needed eleven cups of coffee today," she stated proudly, typing something on her laptop. "I might be going home soon."

Tommy forced a casual smile onto his face. "I'll try not to keep you too long then."

He launched into the usual updates, fishing out the relevant documents from his files and feeling quite proud that the elastic bands held out for him. "Everything seems to be going according to plan. Eighty-three new variants have been created today, with everything organized for all but four."

"Did some turn you down?" she asked as she shuffled her papers and flicked some beads across her abacus.

"Yes," said Tommy. "But only one threw a shoe at my head, so I'm calling it a win." He stared at the paper he'd been looking at outside in the entrance and drummed his fingers on his knee. He'd run out of things to talk about.

"That's it?" asked River hopefully, hand already reaching into her handbag.

Tommy shifted in his seat, trying to keep his tone light. "Actually, we might have a tiny problem. Small thing, nothing to worry about."

River's face dropped, a resigned look on her face as she sat back down. "That sounds like I should get the emergency procedure forms out."

"No, no," Tommy quickly replied, waving a hand in disagreement. "Honestly, I wouldn't even be bothering you with this. It's just that it involves someone...someone who's not exactly important, but could affect something that is."

River sighed and reopened her laptop, taking a sip of slightly congealed coffee. "Don't try to soften the blow. Just give it to me straight. Who?" she said, clicking away with her mouse until she'd brought up the right program. Tommy took a deep breath, and decided to just spit it out.

"Peter Maximoff."

She rubbed her nose, adding another streak of ink to her face. "Who?"

"Oh," said Tommy, flicking through the papers until he found the notes he wanted. "He's not too important. Not in my reality or in even the several thousands of realities he's in. Only once was he important, and that was in the reality where he died saving Clint Barton, only there, he went by Pietro. Not even there was he that important. He was probably mentioned in some of your other ones."

River frowned and picked up a log book. "The name rings a bell now that you mention it. He's human I take it?"

"Mutant," corrected Tommy. "Not many of those in the population of my world. And where there are, they keep their mutations well-hidden," he added. Even he sometimes forgot how many possible worlds there were, and both he and his manager took care of dozens, most of them vastly different from his own. "He's sometimes referred to as Quicksilver. Broke an Erik Lehnsherr out of the Pentagon when he was a teenager. Mostly known as Magneto--"

"Ahh," smirked River. "Now I remember. He's that old fellow who was all about mutant rights. Good intentions," she sighed, glancing at the screen of her laptop, "wrong way of doing it."

"Yes, evil mutant," said Tommy encouragingly. "Killed far too many people. Made a few disappointing choices. Quickie is his son."

River was making notes on a sheet of paper that already contained a series of bullet points and a game of hangman. "Ah-huh," she muttered. "You're quite right; there are thousands of realities with that, just didn't recognize the name. So..." She looked up, her tired eyes bright. "What's he done? How much trouble are we talking about?"

"Well," said Tommy, jumping to his feet to pace along the little office. "Like I've said, in my reality, Peter is a mutant, one who can run super fast, and he grew up with his mother since his father left them both before Peter was born. The only thing he's done worth mentioning is breaking his father out of the Pentagon after another mutant went back in time to change the future. That and when he assisted the X-Men in stopping the apocalypse. Now he's at a school for mutants and while he does have a knack for getting into trouble, normally, there are a few people who keep him out of too much bother." Normally, Tommy added ruefully to himself. Where they had been when all this trouble started, he wish he knew.

River was on the laptop. "Names?" she demanded, snapping her fingers.

"Well, the owner of the school is Charles Xavier, former ally of Magneto, also known as Professor X. Well, I guess you could say they're friends again, although they differ in opinion, since Magneto is now staying with him for the time being." He gave her a moment's more typing, then carried on. "Peter's made quite a few friends at the school. I'm pretty sure you know the X-Men team from back then. Magneto has yet to know Peter is his son, and basically everyone but him knows. I swear, some of the drama that goes on there is great entertainment."

River's fingers were flying over the keys, her eyes tracing through what appeared to be an incomprehensibly large tree glowing a bright blue on the black screen. "Ah-huh," She said, nodding and blinking furiously. She took off her reading glasses, and narrowed her eyes at Tommy. "I'm still not seeing where the problem is."

"Oh, it's coming," he winced. "Yesterday, something happened. A mansion full of mutants. Something's bound to, uh...go wrong."

River's index finger followed along the tree as she put back on her glasses. "Those things have happened in half a dozen realities as well. You might want to be a little more specific."

"Yes," Tommy replied with a grimace. "But in my reality, what happened managed to send Peter into a reality where...." This as where he started to lose his nerve. "Remember that one I just told you about? Where he died saving Clint Barton, Hawkeye? In that reality, he also has a twin sister. One he doesn't have in my reality. Wanda Maximoff?"

River raised her eyebrows. "That's one of the people I can't forget. Your point?" she stated in a tone that made him gulp.

"That's...where he ended up. And with a little help, I found out, it's after that little 'Civil War' incident between the Avengers," he said.

"Ah," said River, taking her finger away from the tree.

"Now, it shouldn't be too much of a problem," explained Tommy hastily before River could jump to any wrong conclusions. "I've had dozens of instances like this before, but being that he's a mutant, surrounded by superheroes and scientists, he could be able to get himself back home without too much of a headache."

"Too much of a headache?" repeated River, her voice becoming dangerously low. " _Too much of a headache?_ Are you serious? You've lost someone in _another_ _reality_?"

Tommy held up a finger. "Yes," he said, trying to sound confident. "But I'm sure it won't be long before he finds out a way to get back home. It can be done."

River gritted her teeth. "And what," she grounded out, "about the consequences of him being in this other reality?" She sighed in frustration, and put a hand up to her forehead. "He will derail it entirely!"

She was right, but Tommy knew it wasn't completely hopeless. "There's still a reality where he doesn't show up, and that one will continue to branch out as usual. This reality will fix itself too...eventually. I promise it's what happened last time."

"Last time?" she huffed, shaking her head. "Who on the many earths allowed you to remain in charge after this happened?"

"A stunning, clever, very wise--"

"Oh, give it a rest!" she snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I want hourly progress reports."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied quickly.

"Where is he now?"

As he stopped pacing, Tommy allowed a sense of relief to creep into his stomach. It was always best to discuss the problem out loud. Even if that person you were talking to wanted to fire you. "I'm not precisely sure, but now that I know what reality he's in, I can check up on it to see."

River took a deep breath. "One chance to fix this. I'm putting a lot of faith in you to not mess this up. Don't make me regret it."

"Understood. Soon, this will be something to laugh about on late nights," Tommy smiled nervously as he backed out of the office. He was already getting off easy. No way was he pushing it.

She flipped her log book closed and folded her hands in front of her. "I want to know the second this boy is back home, understood?"

"Right, you are," agreed Tommy, reaching behind him for the door. "I'm sure it will be fine. Nothing to worry about." The instant he slipped out the door and the lock clicked shut, there was a soft _thwack_ heard from the other side of the door, followed by, "Ow!" Then there was a series of fervent, loud whispers that suggested they'd be shouts if they weren't right outside River's office.

"Nothing to worry about," muttered River. She listened to the argument outside until it stopped. A moment passed as she stared at the tree-like diagram before her. It was a spiral of infinite possibilities. For every decision, there was a branch, an offshoot. "Nothing to worry about," she sighed to herself, and took another sip of congealed coffee. "Yeah, right."


	2. Chapter 2

The frigid wind blew in her face, dark hair whipping around me. The bitter cold cut through her dark gray hoodie, making Wanda feel numb. Numb. If only she could feel like this all the time, or rather, _not_ feel. Anything but the emptiness that threatened to swallow her whole, drag me deep inside herself.

She sat on the edge of a rooftop overlooking the city, the moon peeking through the clouds swirling in the inky sky as she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. A sigh escaped her lips, a cloud of foggy mist rising from her breath.

Rose kept encouraging her to get out of the apartment more, but Wanda's love for the outside just wasn't there. Not anymore. A year had passed since the "Civil War" incident between her old team, that's what everyone called it now, and two since Pietro....

The mere memory of his name caused a lump in her throat. Wanda missed him. More than she could ever put into words No matter how annoying he could be, for the longest, he was all she had. The only one who cared after their parents were gone. And now he was with them.

She wasn't sure if there was such a thing as the afterlife anymore, but if there was, she hoped he was finally happy.

Two years, and Wanda supposed she _should_ be over it, after all back in Sokovia they didn't have time to mourn because they had to keep moving in order to keep surviving...but she wasn't. She wasn't sure if she ever would be, knowing her brother was.... Was.... God, she still couldn't even think it.

Ever since the fight with Stark and they managed to escape from the raft, Wanda decided to go her separate way. She felt it easier if they didn't have to worry for her, and...she couldn't stop thinking of what would happen if the government found her again. Would they put her back into the straitjacket with that shock collar around her neck, or would they prepare something worse?

_It chafed around her neck, and she must have made a sound because all she knew next was the overwhelming agony filling her senses and how she gritted her teeth not scream because then they'd do it again._

Thinking about it made Wanda touch her neck and her breath quicken, remembering how the collar had been so tight it restricted my breathing. Steve says it was because they're afraid of her. They're right to be. With all she can do, even she afraid of herself sometimes.

The constant pain and the constant fear back on the Raft made it worse. Nowadays, she tried to keep my distance with people as much as possible. Rose was about the only person she did interact with, unless you count her friend Aaron who sometimes slept on the couch. They managed to become the only friends she had out here. Rose had found her by accident when Wanda had collapsed, filthy and wet, in front of her apartment after a flash of memories left her breathless and terrified and confused until she passed out. Instead of turning her in after recognizing her, Rose had simply took her upstairs and made sure she was well. And despite how many times Wanda said she would leave, she couldn't.

Thankfully, not many people came up here often. Even after all that happened, Wanda kept her love of gazing up at the stars at night, wondering what else could be out there. Looking up at the sky, it reminded her of how little they know about the universe, about how little is already explored. Yet it scared her.

It was just a feeling, but something told her that tonight would be a good night for stargazing. A small voice in the back of her head that told her something was going to happen tonight. No clue why, but Wanda trusted it. If it hadn't been wrong before every time it hinted she was making the right decision, why would it now? Even before the experiments, her instincts had almost always been right, so she had no reason to doubt it.

Getting up, Wanda swiftly climbed down the side of the building using a rusted fire escape, and stepped onto a dark side street. With a small sigh, she pulled up her hood and put her hands in her pockets, making her way down the cracked sidewalk, being careful to avoid stepping in the dim halos of light illuminated from the street lamps.

The neon sign of O'Leery's Bar greeted her, the blinking leprechaun lifting its arm repeatedly, drinking a mug of beer. Shivering, Wanda entered through the front door, stopping to look for Rose who would be getting off her shift in a few minutes. The girls working here all looked the same, though. Waitresses all dressed in white blouses, black vests, high shorts, and fishnet tights, various levels of skin showing through their uniforms, scurried about the pub, serving drinks or taking orders. 

Hazy smoke filled the bar, the dingy lighting making the whole room seem dim which made Wanda relax just the slightest since that meant it would make it harder for anyone to recognize her. The TV droned on in the background, set on the news. There were only about ten or fifteen customers in the bar, which Rose told her was the usual for a Wednesday night. Most of them wore unbuttoned work shirts, ties loose and hanging off their neck, presumably just having gotten off their job for the day.

Just as Wanda began to leave, her heartbeat quickening and red starting to swirl around her fingers despite how hard she tried to show it down, she saw Rose's familiar head of black hair with purple streaks. She grabbed her jacket and her messenger bag, and started toward the door when she noticed Wanda standing there. Still in uniform, Rose was easy to spot with her black nail polish, black eyeliner, and the ring in her left eyebrow. Well, that and her black leather fingerless gloves with the words "Fuck off" on each in bold letters. You can rest assure none of the other waitresses wore those during their shift. It was bad for business, but Rose liked to ensure the men knew to keep their hands off her.

"Red?" She came toward Wanda and grabbed her upper arm, and Wanda had to remind herself this was a friendly touch, turning her around to walk. "Nice to see you're finally out of the house, but I don't think tonight's a good night," she said in a hushed tone. Together, with her grip gentle but firm on Wanda's arm like she was about to run off at any moment, they walked out the door and into the night.

Wanda gave her a questioning look. "Your face was on the news again today," she sighed, her Brooklyn accent heavy on her tongue. "They were talking about how they had yet to find Captain America's side of the Avengers. The men are all drunk, and can barely tell their left from their right, but I don't like to take any chances."

Wanda's eyes widened, Rose's grip tightened slightly. "No more running off," she hissed, then her voice softened. "I worry about you these days."

At those last words, Wanda looked down at her feet. She couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of guilt that it was her fault to put her through this. Her fault she now had to work twice as hard since she'd taken me in. Her fault that she was in danger. She was not sure if Rose even knew how much trouble she'd be in if the government found out she's been housing a fugitive.

"Come on," she said, turning down an alley. "It's a shortcut--"

"Rosie!" a voice from behind them chuckled. Rose flinched, and let go of Wanda's arm before turning around. When she started to do so, Rose forced her to face forward. "How you been? Who's your friend?"

"None of your business, Tyrese," she snapped, keeping her hands on Wanda's shoulders to keep her walking. Looking over her shoulder, Wanda caught sight of a man standing at the entrance.

"Really? 'Cause she looks an awful lot like that chick on the news," he said. "What was her name again? The Scarlet Witch, right?"

"I don't have time for this," Rose huffed, grabbing Wanda's arm again, though this time, the pressure on her arm harsher than last time. There was an urgency in her tone that gave away how badly she wanted out of this situation.

"There's a reward if they turn her in, you know," he stated lightly. "Maybe we could split it, 50/50?"

"Obviously all that alcohol's gone to your head," Rose snorted, whipping around to face him. "I should know. I served you every one of those drinks." She gestured to Wanda. "This is Louise. My _girlfriend_ , in case you were getting any ideas."

"The thoughts I have are concerning the police station. Why don't we hear it from the dame herself?" he asked, folding his arms.

"She's mute," Rose snarled. "She'd rather not be reminded of that."

Taking a shaky breath, Wanda hoped neither could hear her heart pounding in her chest. "And look what you've done! You've scared the poor girl out of her mind!" Rose snapped. "She's always been paranoid about going outside. I finally convinced her to face her fears, and now you've ruined it! She's probably never going to want to go outside again!"

"Hey, my bad," he shrugged, raising his hands in surrender. "I've got an aunt like that, is there anything I can do to help?"

Without saying anything back, Rose turned around and led Wanda back down the alley. Under her breath, she mumbled, "If things go south, take a left at the trash can and run."

"Liar!" She shoved Wanda forward. 

"You can't escape justice!" he shouted.

"Just like you can't escape a broken nose!" 

A thud. Then a loud clang and another thud. After a few seconds, it went silent. Wanda stopped for a second, and just stood there in the middle of the alleyway. What if something happened to her?

As if on cue, Rose came walking around the corner, checking her nails. There was blood on her knuckles, and she was frowning. "I thought I told you to run," she chuckled once she saw me standing there. Wanda said nothing, rushing forward and taking Rose's hands in hers to inspect the damage. "That idiot made me break a nail," she grumbled. A small smile pulled at the corners of Wanda's mouth even as she wiped away the blood.

"She _can_ smile! Come on, you," she sighed. "You'll be the death of me." She put an arm around Wanda's shoulders, and pulled me close before ruffling up her hair. For a split second, her mind flashed back to Pietro, and she tried to push back the wave that hit her. She wasn't him, yet Rose reminded her of him so so much sometimes.

They walked through the alley until they reached the apartment building. Rose let go, and jumped up to pull down the fire escape ladder. After the second try, she got it, and waited for Wanda to climb up. Right before she could grasp the metal, a blur from somewhere behind Rose caught her attention. It was there one second and gone the next.

I've seen that happen before.

"Red?" asked Rose, turning to see where my eyes had wandered. Wanda didn't answer, her attention focused elsewhere. She walked past her, slowly approaching where she'd seen the silver blur. It was stupid to hope, but...maybe--

Any thought Wanda had came to an abrupt stop as something ran into her with such force that she flew back, her head slamming onto the pavement. Pain exploded in my head and she saw stars. All sounds sounded muffled in the background, like someone had thrown a blanket over it. Her vision blurred, but she thought she saw someone stand over her with silver-colored hair and a face filled with concern.

"Pietro?" She mumbled out, voice weak and hoarse after a year without use. Then everything faded away into darkness.


End file.
